Once and Future
by little-godling-stuff
Summary: A thousand years of peace and one fateful night of destiny retelling itself. When the ancient evil had once again walked the earth, so will the Once and Future King as Albion faces imminent threat. Emrys will once again serve his king. But he must find him first before it's too late. A sequel story of, well.. Merlin. Hope you enjoy it.
1. PROLOGUE

_"Stories are born out of truth,_

_The dark, the cruel, and how we grew,_

_To fall, to love, to wreck and built,_

_The pain, the loss, regrets and guilt,_

_The raised sword of the King,_

_Once was and once will be,_

_He waits for him as the story folds,_

_To pause and to once again behold."_

-**Once and Future** (by little-godling-stuff)

**PROLOGUE:**

The night was quiet and clouds had gathered above a simple town in modern day society.

Honks of cars and low bass music could be heard even from the distance. The self-proclaimed Necromancer had trudged on into the woods, following his gut instincts to the right place; the exact same spot. There had been many deaths in this small collection of trees but this one had stood out. A beacon among so many souls, he'd wager. It was a powerful soul that much he could tell.

No one had believed him when he had told them he had the power to hear the dead. He had been born to his abilities. When he was young, he'd been told that it was all in his head, those terrifying yet mysterious voices that whisper even to the most smallest of silence. When he was in his teens, it had vanished, forced to the very back and deepest corner of his mind. It remained quiet for a good, solid decade until he'd lost his love in an accident.

In his grief, he'd been distraught enough to seek her out. He'd remembered when he was a young boy how the dead would whisper to him and so he'd forced himself to do so again. The Necromancer had willed himself to call to his dormant powers yet to fail each day. He became restless and angry to his incompetence. He'd desperately needed to call to his beloved. To tell her he loved her, to apologize, to say he never meant the things he'd said that fateful night she'd ran out and had collided with a drunk man's car.

Years had passed and still he failed. He'd grown bitter and hate had resided where a loving heart had once flourished. He'd traveled miles, over seas and lands, to seek power. The power he'd initially wanted just to talk to her, to tell her goodbye. But he'd grown tired of feeling helpless, weak and unable to reach to a gift he'd once feared. Now, he wanted her back from the dead. In his travels, he had picked up the Art of Necromancy. In practice, he'd proclaimed himself a master in the very dark art most folk like him had feared and he relished on the look of fear, disgust and envy from his peers.

How foolish he'd be to think so after this fateful night is over.

Though his powers are truly great, he had been denied and still lack the ability to raise the dead. Now, he thinks himself ready for the task. Tonight, he would raise some poor soul for practice. Tonight, he'd prove himself a true and formidable sorcerer. He picked up his pace as the call that had led him to the very center of this small cluster of trees, bushes and undergrowth grew stronger and louder, it tingled his skin.

Then, it all grew quiet and still.

He had arrived.

He'd placed special made candles and mixtures he'd made before for the ceremony. They were placed around him in a firm circle. Just from the very items around him, magic grew restless and it pulsed in weak waves inside his neat circle. From an outsider, his smile was wicked, almost cruel and mad, but to him it was pure adoration for his life long work and creation. To the achievements he will ravish after this night.

_To see his beloved again.._

He raised his palm and, with a hard, determined glint in his eye and a small twitch of his lips in excitement, he started chanting, "_Pentru a murit în somn, care minciuna, suflet care a fost înrobit la moarte, auzi chemarea mea, auzi chemarea mea, de Magic Vechi, eu sun, prin puterea de Avalon, răspunde-mi, vin și să fie ridicat și să fie obligat pentru a trai o dată mai mult.._"

He felt the exotic burn through his body traveling to his eyes as he knew would be burning a molten gold right about now. He'd felt the words roll off his tongue with conviction and power but nothing stirred. He stretched his hand farther, his back straightening, his stance firming and shut his eyes in concentration, sweat rolling off his brow, back and temples to neck.

"_Pentru a murit în somn, care minciuna, suflet care a fost înrobit la moarte, auzi chemarea mea, auzi chemarea mea, de Magic Vechi, eu sun, prin puterea de Avalon, răspunde-mi, vin și să fie ridicat și să fie obligat pentru a trai o dată mai mult!_" he all but screamed.

A churn from beneath his feet caused him to open his eyes. They widened in glee and he barely noticed the way he panted from the amount of power the spell took from him. The sky grumbled and murmured silent roars, meaning to pent its frustrations. The clouds had thickened and threatened to let loose horrible storms. He closed his eyes again, breathed in and out to gather stamina. He felt calm, at peace, to the power he wielded in the palm of his hand. His magic twirled and swam inside him like a great tiger shark demanding to be released. He had never felt greater power than he had now.

He never knew he even had such gift.

He held his breath, straightened his back, stretched his palm and sweat trickling down his brows once again, he released his breath along with a roar; "_Pentru a murit în somn, care minciuna, suflet care a fost înrobit la moarte, auzi chemarea mea, auzi chemarea mea, de Magic Vechi, eu sun, prin puterea de Avalon, răspunde-mi, vin și să fie ridicat și să fie obligat pentru a trai o dată mai mult!_"

Lightning had flashed and hit inside his circle, right in front of him. He was thrown back with the impact. He felt his back collide with a tree with a sickening thud. He slipped to the ground and hit his side on the tree's root. It knocked the breath out of him. A moment, a second, a minute passed as he recovered from his short of breath and dizziness. He lifted his head and saw someone else lying in his neat little circle. He forced himself up and limped toward the unmoving figure. She lay bare of any clothing and curled in a fetal position as if a newborn, her hair knotted and full of grime. He turned her around and pushed the hair out of her beautiful, sharp and angelic face, her lips pale white that blended with her albino skin. Her beauty knocked him breathless once again.

Her eyes burst open and thunder boomed, revealing cold pale green eyes.

* * *

"Congratulations, it's a baby boy!" the doctor proclaimed. A smile adorned the young parents as the bundle was laid in the new mother's arms. The young father swelled with pride and joy as the young mother smiled lovingly down at her son.

"What's his name?" the doctor quietly asked.

"Arthur," the mother said just as quietly. "His name is Arthur."

* * *

Somewhere miles away, as the thunder boomed from the distance, the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth had rather a jolting awakening from his slumber. He panted, breathing away the recent nightmares, his old bones creaking in protest at his sudden movement. He took his robe and put it on, walking toward the window where a storm brewed in the horizon.

"The Once and Future King has risen again." he murmured.

Then, he chuckled. "It's about time, you prat." he said.

* * *

_**NOTES:** so, yeah, this is my first Merlin fic. And the little poem I made along with it._

_I was really happy with the way the show ended, contrary to many fan's feels. It was just perfect in my perspective. It allowed this whole hope to build and ideas to churn whatsoever. I just feel so proud of the entire production and how it all turned out. The language I used for the Necromancer's spell is actually Romanian since its so hard to find an actual Celtic translator and I couldn't be bothered. XD The, er, picture is not mine. I found it on google or tumblr, I forgot. XD_

_So, I hope you enjoyed this and tell me if I should continue or not.._

**_MERLIN IS NOT MINE BUT THE PROPERTY OF THE ONE AND ONLY HEART-BREAKERS, BBC._**


	2. Chapter 1 : Birth of the New

_"The pale crisp of the Golden Age;_

_Had come and gone to mourn and rage;_

_To light the sky intense, we haste;_

_The dark of night and metallic swords, we taste;_

_The dreams have dimmed and fear encased;_

_The brave and noble remain unfazed;_

_For it does not matter if it's not the Golden Age;_

_Here we live in the firm, Iron Age."_

-**Iron Age** (by little-godling-stuff)

**CHAPTER 1:**

_University of Wales_

_.. 20 years later.._

"YOU DID NOT JUST-..!" Arthur retorted, his tone somewhere between indignant and threatening.

The receiving end of this threat was somewhat unfazed, especially with that mischievous glint in his eyes and that mocking expression on his face. He feigned the shocked 'o' on his mouth and that too obvious and exaggerated wince crunching around the corner of his right eye.

"Oh, dear god," he murmured to himself, observing his handy work.

Arthur heard snickering in the background and as embarrassed as he was, he could only glare and try to the best of his abilities not to strangle the idiot.

After a moment with a chewed lower lip later, "Sorry, mate." he told Arthur casually albeit sincere with the faintest of sheepish shrug.

Arthur glared at the man in disbelief, his blonde hair still dripping wet of the dirty water this idiot had _accidentally_ tipped off the second floor while he and some of his mates were laughing at a random bloke with thick glasses tripping on his own shoelaces. Papers and books flew in all direction and apparently, so did a bucket. It just so happened to have landed on the top of _his_ head. The offender had immediately raced down the stairs to beg for his forgiveness. Of course, that was what he was expecting and not this shrugged off, half of an apology as if tipping a bucket with questionable contents in it was something that happened every bloody day.

"That's it?" Arthur demanded.

"Well, what else is there?" the idiot _innocently_ asked.

_The nerve_, Arthur thought and he scoffed.

"Don't you know who I am?" Arthur demanded.

His mates gathered around behind him trying their best to look intimidating and threatening at the same time. They, like Arthur, failed to do both the former and the latter toward the stranger. Arthur gave a predatory smirk, oblivious of how unfazed the other man was toward his little group of friends.

"An egotistical prat?" the raven-haired that Arthur dubbed as 'idiot' said.

Arthur scoffed louder combining it with a mocking, disbelief chuckle, a message to everyone that had gathered within hearing distance that he was about to sentence this idiot to whole new world of pain.

"I can take you apart with one blow." Arthur casually and bluntly threatened, grinning.

The idiot just smirked in this chilling, knowing, mischievous and cheeky way. Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that there was something eerily familiar about it.

"I can take you apart with less than that." the idiot said, confident and enigmatic with a taunting smirk to match.

"Well, go on, then," Arthur said, offering his left side of his face toward the stranger. "Do your _worst_."

Arthur had always been a good fighter. He'd been to bar brawls and just random fights now and then enough to know that he can take this idiot. He was all bulk and brawn whilst the other man was skin and bones. It just wouldn't be right if he can't.

The other man just sighed, if somewhat theatrical, then shrugged.

For a fleeting moment, Arthur saw the idiot's eyes spark, probably a reflection from the sun, then his lids instinctively shut close as he felt something collide with his forehead. He felt dazed for a moment, his head heavy and black spots danced in his eyes.

Then, his vision cleared.

A boomerang landed a few meters from his feet, his mates holding him steady. He shook his head and saw the idiot making a run for it, mirthful eyes and mocking smiles fancied his face.

He rumbled in anger. "Why you little-.." he never finished his insult.

He bolted after the raven-haired idiot, his mates just a few feet behind him. They were telling him something or maybe whooping in joy for the excitement but he ignored it, focused on his task. They ran through hallways and locker rooms, pushing bystanders off their path to the exit. Arthur saw the idiot leaped the small steps decorating the front entrance and dashed through the streets. Arthur followed suit, jumping gracefully off the small steps.

Then, he_ just so happens_ to have tripped on his face.

He kicked the skateboard with disgust that he had slipped on and pushed himself up, continuing his pursuit. Where that came from, he never had the chance to think. The idiot disappeared behind an alleyway. Arthur smirked victoriously like a hunter finally catching his prey, rounding the alley he knew to be a dead end.

When he and his mates were in full view of the alley, an old man hobbled towards them.

A _familiar_ old man.

"I know you from somewhere," Arthur said, stopping the old man in his tracks.

"Well, I certainly don't know you." the old man said in this croaky, cheeky tune.

Arthur raised his brows and shook his head.

"Have you seen a man come through here?" Arthur asked.

"Nope," the old man replied in that cheeky tone again.

"Were you blind?" one of Arthur's mates said, raising an eyebrow. "We saw him running toward this alley."

"Something interesting in your tea this morning was there? I was standing here, and I'd definitely would've seen a man dashing about out here if there was one!" the old man snapped. Arthur and the others exchanged a few confused and doubtful looks. "Well, if you think you're so clever why don't you check behind that trash bin or that cat if you think he's down here. Knock yourselves out, like I bloody care."

He mumbled a few more insults as he hobbled off, passing Arthur and his friends, and Arthur swore he heard the old man mutter 'dollop-head' under his breath.

He knew that old man from _somewhere_..

* * *

_Merlin sat on a random bench in a random park on a random day, exasperated and bitter in another failed attempt of locating the Once and Future King._

_He didn't even know whether he'd still be named Arthur or would he look the same or if he'd be rising from Avalon and has been wandering all this time oblivious of who he is or if his memories are intact and just doesn't know that Merlin is still alive. After all, who could live a thousand and seven hundred years?_

_Merlin felt himself sigh and buried his face inside his palms._

_He felt the bench shift and took a peek through his fingers. There, beside him sat a little boy no more than six in khakis, a red shirt and a grey baseball cap with ice cream smeared all over his face. He tilted his head in wonder and gazed at the old, wary man with eyes sparking with wisdom. Or maybe it was just magic, the little boy didn't know._

_Merlin smiled softly, deciding to indulge the boy._

_"Hullo, there," he said._

_"Hullo." the little boy responded, a little shy._

_"Where's your mum?" Merlin asked._

_"She's over there, talking on the phone with my dad." the little boy said and pointed a ice cream stained finger toward the direction of a blonde woman who was visibly arguing with someone on the phone. Merlin felt sympathy for the boy. He must''ve wandered away from his mother to get away from that nasty verbal battle._

_So, he turned toward the little man and said, "Do you want to hear a story?"_

_The boy perked up and nodded._

_Merlin cleared his throat and gave a theatrical tune as he told the boy the story of the Once and Future King._

_"Once, there was prince who slew dragons and magical beasts with his mighty sword. His name was Arthur." he said._

_At the name, the boy beamed, his ice cream forgotten as its contents melted and dripped to the ground._

_"Arthur was the prince of Camelot. His father, King Uther, had brought darkness to the land. He had banished magic."_

_"But-.. Dad said there's no such thing as magic." the little boy said uncertainly._

_Merlin smiled knowingly._

_Though magic hasn't been persecuted as badly as it was during the Great Purge and King Uther's reign, it had been cast aside and declared mythical, favoring the thorough and simple explanations of science._

_"Oh, magic is real, all right," he leaned in and whispered conspiringly to the little boy. "It lives here," he pointed on his chest, atop where his heart should be._

_He slowly enclosed his palms together. "And if you believe in it," he whispered, opening his palms slowly and a blue butterfly fluttered gracefully from his palms and awe simply oozed from the little boys passionate and adoring gaze as he trailed the little butterfly until it fluttered away from them._

_"You could see it for what it truly is; beautiful." Merlin said._

_"Did Arthur see magic as beautiful too?" the little boy asked in wonder._

_"Oh, yes, he did." Merlin confirmed. "He restored peace and united the five kingdoms because he'd been able to see magic for what it truly was."_

_"What happened to him?" the little boy asked._

_Merlin smiled sadly. "He lived a thousand years ago but time still remembers him for his bravery and kind heart. He was a good man, a loving king and a loyal friend." he said._

_"But everyone thinks magic doesn't exist anymore," the little boy frowned in confusion. "He'd failed."_

_"No, he did not." Merlin said. "Destiny is a funny thing. It works in the most confusing and frustrating of ways, but there is a reason to everything. You only have to believe."_

_He smiled knowingly at the boy and the little man just tilted his head in confusion but in acceptance of the cryptic message the older man had given him._

_"Arthur," a voice called from a distance. Merlin whipped his head toward its origin. It was the blonde woman, her heated phone call finally finished._

_The little boy, Arthur, leaped off his seat next from the older man. He started to trot toward his mother when he turned around and said, "Maybe one day I could be like King Arthur, too."_

_Then he trotted off toward his mother, visibly mildly scolding him for talking to strangers but there was no mistaking the wide smile on his lips as he took his mother's hand, the other hand still clutching the molted cone and ice cream. He looked back and waved the cone clad hand toward Merlin and happily let his mother drag him to the washroom to clean up._

_"Yes, maybe you will," Merlin murmured to himself, declaring to himself his search was over._

_He'd found his King._

* * *

Merlin glanced behind him and saw Arthur's group filing out of the alley and grinned in excitement.

His plan to reenact the past was going as smoothly as he planned it to be. It was finally time and judging by Arthur's early prattish days from the past, this Arthur won't be any different.

The odd sensation of déjà vu and nostalgia creeping up to his old bones sent chills and a slight tremor all over his body.

Though it wasn't the first time he'd exchanged words with the Once and Future King, it was the first time they'd spoken in his younger form of self. Destiny hung in the air as two old friends, one oblivious and one knowing the extent of their journey; just like old times, are once again united to bring Albion into the light as they once had.

Merlin could only hope the royal prat would catch on a lot faster than he had in the past.

* * *

"Well, isn't this nice!" Fred said as he lounged on a bench and looking up at the sun, his sunglasses reflecting the all too annoying light.

Arthur had to wince in disgust as the reflection passed his eyes and he sniffed indignantly.

"College, my best mates and random sorority girls all lining up to be banged. Plus, Arthur getting dosed by god knows what as a comical relief yesterday, life can't be anymore perfect." Fred continued. A snicker came from beside the laid back git. Scott clamped his trap shut and tried not to laugh at Arthur's indignant glare.

Arthur glared some more and rolled his eyes at Fred's antiques. Though he may be a bit blunt (well, Arthur has to admit, the man is the very definition of blunt) the ragged ginger-haired teen was all just for show. Well, he may be bar hopping almost every night but still, the man's heart was always at the right place.

"I can't believe you'd still chased that guy to that alley way? What if he was there? What were you even planning to do? Beat him a pulp?" Garret scolded.

Arthur chose to ignore him. He had secretly dubbed his friend_ Garret, the American motherhen_. The man had a heart larger than the planet earth.

Though Arthur respected him for that, it still angered him that his friend lacked trust in him. Of course, he wasn't going to go that far, the poor boy must've ran in fear with his tail quivering beneath his legs. But somewhere in the deep recesses of Arthur's mind told him he doubts that. The idiot might've ran but it was more of to avoid conflict rather than in fear.

Plus, he couldn't shake that chilling, knowing smirk on his face. It unnerved him a lot more than he cared to admit.

Arthur Pendridge hadn't admitted fear since he was six years old and a lanky idiot won't change that fact.

"Chill, Gar," a voice said beside Fred. Scott regarded his friend with calm surety. "It was nothing dangerous. Don't get your knickers up in a twist, all right?"

Arthur sometimes wondered how the trouble-making juvenile had always found that calm whenever he needed to cross a point. Arthur would've just snapped at anyone who'd stick their noses where it doesn't belong but Garret he'd gotten used to. After all, they've been friends for nearly seven years.

Arthur picked up the camera he'd brought with him today. Autumn leaves falling from high branches and the annoying afternoon sun casting a pale gold making the scenery breathtaking. He held the camera up to his eye and snapped random photos.

He could hear his friends continuing their bickering on the background but he tuned them out.

Through his eyepiece, he'd spotted the scene he'd wanted to see. She was hanging up fliers on a tree, her brown curls dancing around her face along with the Autumn breeze when he snapped the photo. She turned as if sensing someone watching her and she looked toward Arthur's direction. He almost jumped but regained composure by turning away and pretending to be suddenly interested in the conversation.

It was a few moments then that he felt someone behind him, he tensed slightly and turned. There she was standing with arms load of fliers and a stapler on the other. Balancing all of her load in one arm, she handed him a flier.

"There's an Autumn Ball happening next week on Saturday. It's a little get together to celebrate the start of the new term." Gwen explained with a radiant and shy smile as Arthur read the flier with extreme gusto. "Everyone's invited."

"Honestly, only schools would celebrate the start of term," Fred muttered as he lost interest but subtly paid his friend a little more cautious attention.

"We'll see," Arthur finally managed. "Thanks."

Gwen nodded and smiled kindly then stalked off pass them. Arthur watched her go, her curls still dancing along with the wind.

"By the gods," Scott murmured. "Why don't you just ask her out?"

"Ask who out?" Arthur frowned in bewilderment.

Three pair of eyes looked at him in mild disbelief before Scott winced at his friend's naivety, Garret grimaced and Fred rolled his eyes.

Then, all argument or conversation or any sort of communication between the four stopped.

They're heads all turned toward the harsh, pale sunlight as a girl dressed in flowing green dress up to her knees stalked their way. Her curls dangled with rich life in them, her posture straight like a noble's and her face pale and gold against the sun. Her lips and cheeks red and her locks danced with the breeze as well.

But not like Gwen's.

The girl's hair swayed more gracefully, her stride more predatory.

And for a moment, Arthur and her eyes met. Then it was gone as she passed him by.

The sight of pale, cold, dead green eyes still plastered, haunting in the back of his lids.

* * *

_**NOTES**: yup, this could've gone better than what I've been expecting or had been planning to make._

_But with my writer's block and everything else happening, I just feel like my head's going to explode and just needed to get this first chapter done. Don't get me wrong I've done my but I guess my best wasn't good enough. .. I think that's a song from somewhere._

_Anyway, it also took some time because I did a bit of research. As you can see, the setting is in Wales where most rumors I've encountered on the Arthurian Legends have centered. Cardiff in this chapter since I've decided Arthur should be in college in his twenties._

_Also, **Pendridge** is actually another way to spell Pendragon according to the Pendragon crest and family history._

_But seriously, I've been lacking too much sleep to be bothered by all this that much. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this._

_Because it may suck now but you're in for some massive surprise somewhere in the climax. hahahaha._

_I hope I'm just not raising your hopes up. XD_

_**MERLIN IS THE PROPERTY OF THE BELOVED BBC.**_


	3. Chapter 2 : Reacquainted

_"There was once a sleeping king;_

_Who ruled a land that flew with wings;_

_And the sleeping king had been in peace;_

_Peace that floated along the Winter breeze;_

_And they wait and wait for summer to come;_

_To break the chilly curse and all undone."_

- **Royal Sleep** (by little-godling-stuff)

**CHAPTER 2:**

Merlin was the sole protector of Albion for almost a millennia and seven centuries.

He trudged on to the familiar greens and mosses and trees, warded and protected to prevent any random mortal or mundane to stumble upon this ancient and magical forest, an innovated sense of excitement running up and down his body.

It has been a long time since he'd been able to actually feel excitement. Through his long and tedious waiting, there hadn't been anything else to perk up the old warlock's undivided interest. Sure, there'd been battles through the centuries of waiting here and there but this was definitely different.

The _Once and Future King_ has returned.

Though it had thrilled Merlin more than anything in the world to be finally reunited with his old friend, it gave him a sense of foreboding anxiety because it can only mean one thing.

Along with the king, a great evil has risen to threaten Albion.

But what it was is still a question that had been plaguing Merlin's mind for the last twenty years, ever since that fateful night he felt King Arthur's presence walk the earth once more. He had been searching for the evil as well as he'd been searching for the king but it had a way of evading him.

It was powerful, that much he knew.

And it was patient, bidding it's time to strike.

Merlin's eyes narrowed. He was nowhere near of solving this mystery, with all the powerful and cunning magic behind it unlike anything he had seen before (and he had seen enough, being the greatest warlock to have ever and will ever live and all) but he has the feeling he was missing something vital that's within his reach. A small tug in his subconscious that prodded him he knew the answer, that obnoxious feeling that had taken residence on the tip of his tongue for the last twenty years but whenever he tried to see what it was, it slips away deeper in his mind and he loses it completely until it reappears again, taunting him with a game of cat and mouse. But then again, Arthur would not rise if he could have handled this on his own.

Destiny was at her loom and sews fate as we speak.

He sighed as he swatted the last of the bushes that separated him from his destination.

It was a small encampment. A group of red and white stable tents, modern but old fashioned looking, lined the round clearing of tamed grasses and wild flowers that greeted him with the smell of fresh daisies and lilacs and many other little flowers and he felt a little at home. It had the resemblance of a military base only friendlier, with the meadow almost intentionally overgrown, the breeze soft and smelled fresh, a humongous relief from civilization and the sunlight coloring the entire camp in gold. It was bustled with people and activity.

It was magic's sole haven.

The matter with the Once and Future King wasn't the only thing preoccupying his mind in the last twenty years or maybe even a thousand or two, give or take a few centuries, years. He had scoured all of Albion and even the world to find and preserve every traces of magic he could find, including his people. They were under his protection and tutelage. Those with the capacity to use their gifts for good and singled out as strange from their own homes were given a family and a hope. Some were even descendants of druids and others were from other areas and branches of magic such as the Catha and the followers of the Triple Goddess and other priests and priestesses of the Old Religion.

Though some of his prodigies' magic had been dormant from generations of disuse, he had felt their magic strong enough that he'd offered them his little sanctuary and awaken the dragon-heart within and live up to their potential. Of course, he'd been careful in choosing the few he'd offered to. He can't have accidentally creating another Morgana or another Cornelius Sigan. He'd observe and read them, if he deemed them worthy, he'd offer and if they declined then he was still fine with it and left them a way of contacting him in case they ran into some magical problems.

In truth, he'd actually been nervous and suspicious of one student of his who seemed too interested in Necromancy for comfort. But in the end, the boy had been proven trustworthy and harmless. He was only grieving, Merlin had concluded. Yet still, his heart ache for the boy and for what he'd been through and lost in such a young age. Merlin had been, after all, been forced to go through it as well. Merlin knew too much about loss than he'd like to admit. Everyone he had ever loved had died and wasted away to time as he remained untouched and ageless through the ages. Yes, Merlin could sympathize to that young man so well. Though, that one had been a strange case, because Merlin didn't find him, he found Merlin and the others.

And one day, he just disappeared out of thin air. As a sorcerer, that was completely normal but for such a promising boy to cut ties with them and left without a trace, it was very troublesome to contemplate. But Merlin had shrugged it off, though it hurt, it was definitely not unheard of. Many had left and just couldn't bear the responsibility of magic.

People of all ages and cultures gone on about to their daily routine and no one noticed him as he slipped to the shadows of the tents, making himself invisible for two reasons; one, he wanted to see how his pupils were fairing on their own and two, no one knew what he looks like when he wasn't the wise, slightly insane but brilliant and bearded old man.

Today, he was just Merlin.

The goofy, cheeky, _idiotic_ Merlin.

He hadn't been him for a long time.

And Merlin never thought that day would come when he'd anticipate and grin at the thought of tripping on his own two left feet.

* * *

"Hullo," a voice said from behind him. "Can I help ye, lad?"

"Actually, now that you asked, yes, you could help me," Merlin said and grinned cheekily.

He didn't need to turn to see how the man had raised his two bushy eyebrows that reminded him painfully yet fondly of Gaius, he knew that amused yet curious and confused look was on his face. He had been looking at the notes, books and maps inside a friend's tent with said friend standing just behind him.

But now, he did turn and the curious and confused look on his face completely vanished and left only the remaining emotion that was written on the older looking man's face. It morphed into a fond yet mocking smirk next.

"Well, look who we 'ave 'ere," the man said with a heavy Irish accent. "Don't you look dashing?"

"Always have, boy," Merlin said with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Always have."

"I doubt that, _lad_," the man said, drawling the last word with just the pinch of the right amount of sarcasm which was heavy.

"Oh, do you, _old_ man?" Merlin bantered.

The man chuckled good-naturedly but refused to be pulled into another round of banter and teasing. God knows he'd been baited into those so many times than he'd like to admit. He had long realized that what his mentor was doing was nothing more than out of loneliness. Merlin carried esteem with him, the man concluded along with his realization. It draws you in like a wave washing you away from the shore and into the magnificent ocean without the fear of drowning.

_That had been the magic_, he thought fondly. _His master's unlimited power and wisdom_.

He was nowhere near Merlin's caliber when it comes to power and magic. He was, after all, just a mere hedge wizard who had descended from a noble family that had dedicated their entire lives and generations to him and serve him until the end of their days.

Because Merlin had not only been a powerful warlock, he is also Emrys whom his family deemed worthy to offer their loyalty to. With that being said, Merlin had been feared, adorned, ignored, hidden, honored, hated, envied, cherished, respected and revered by most but never treated as equal.

_He longed for a sense of normalcy from the hero worship_, the man supposed.

But the man had the sense of duty and deference like a knight. He had treated Merlin fairly yet he still held the powerful warlock in high regard.

After all, he was a knight in all but title.

So, he had a job to do.

"My lord," he said politely with a slight bow.

Merlin smiled as polite in return.

"Have you seen through the preparations?" Merlin asked.

He smirked. "Have I ever let you down?" he challenged, making up for the slight deflation of his master's mood.

Merlin chuckled. "No, you have not," he said, shaking his head.

"All is set and ready," he said. "You start on Monday, my lord."

"Good," Merlin said, smirking. "Time to give the royal, reincarnated prat a warm welcoming."

* * *

Arthur produced a malicious grin and Fred, with a questioning frown, thought he'd finally gone mental. But that's before he turned and saw the back of a raven-haired, lanky man who was distractedly shoving all of his belongings inside his locker, muttering gibberish and, if Fred heard correctly, "Books heavy enough to outweigh the prat's arse."

_Poor bloke must have chewed on lead paint when he was a baby_, Fred thought.

Though he had to admit, he thought him brave but stupid enough to stand up to Arthur.

No one ever stood up to Arthur unless they knew him entirely. Or cared for his well-being enough to make sure his pig headedness doesn't go too far. The pressure his friend goes through is just frightening and Fred couldn't help but pity his friend but he would never say that aloud. Arthur would tear him to shreds.

To be expected to carry out after his father both politically and financially since, as the eldest child, he'd be the heir to the Pendridge Corporation, which is dreadful on its own, and to enter a whole world of politics and government. Fred thought that is one place on the entire planet he'd never dare enter. But Arthur was born a leader that much Fred knew. He would do well with power. Arthur just needs to see that for himself.

A bang shook him off his thoughts.

Their new _friend_ had slammed his locker door in annoyance. When he turned, Arthur gave him such a pleasant smile that he stopped dead in his tracks and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Fred chuckled to himself. He probably had the worst luck, having Arthur feet away from his locker.

_I'd give the bloke a month before he runs off screaming_, he thought.

The bloke in question only gave a brief moment of confusion before his own face twisted in an amused yet good naturedly taunting smile, daring lightly at Arthur that he could take any challenge in stride.

_Or maybe he'd be good for Arthur_, Fred added as an afterthought. He smirked which, to some who didn't know what was running through his head, thought he was anticipating some action as Arthur stalked the man like a prey.

"You have some nerve, I give you that." Arthur said cockily.

"You'd be surprise." the other man muttered.

"Oh, will I be?" Arthur drawled, taking a step closer. The other man stood his ground.

"Oh, you have no idea." the man said.

"PENDRIDGE!" someone called. Arthur turned and saw Coach Whitmore of the Lacrosse team, stomping in his direction, his bushy eyebrows scrunching up as if he tasted something sour. Arthur straightened up and so did the other man.

"Coach," Arthur greeted when the massively bulky coach stopped in front of the two. He had a ball cap on, sport shorts and a white shirt which reminded Arthur, as the newly voted captain of the team, he was to oversee the team's first practice and tryout of the term.

"Ah, I see you two have been acquainted, eh?" Coach Whitmore said in his deep Irish accent, clasping his hands behind his back, keeping an amused grin on his face but his eyes held little surprise over the matter.

"Arthur, meet the new addition to the team," the coach continued, presenting the lanky man with much gusto and amusement. "Merlin Campbell."

Arthur turned to the idiot who he now knew as Merlin with a disbelief scowl on his face. He eyed the boy up and down, which was almost nothing at all considering the man was made purely out of skin and bones and looked like he'd been deprived of food, water and sunlight judging by how pale the poor bloke was. He didn't notice the slight wince of indignation and embarrassment the lanky man made upon hearing his 'name'.

"What? How even-.. WHY?" Arthur complained indignantly, clearly confused.

"Don't worry, lad," Coach Whitmore said, chuckling. "The boy's got not enough meat to play. He'd be cleanin' out the equipment and be our water lad."

Merlin gave an indignant scowl and crossed his arms. He muttered gibberish again and Arthur's scrunched up face morphed out of confusion and indignation and gave a delighted smile like some child who just got what he wanted for Christmas.

"Oh," Arthur said. "Well, that's more like it."

Merlin shot him a glare.

"Don't lose yer hold over yer knickers yet, Arthur," the coach warned. "This boy 'ere is me sister's son. Now, if any harm comes to 'im and you lot hold responsible for it, you'd be wishin' yer mother never had you born, understood?"

Arthur, mildly surprised at the bulky coach and the lanky boy's association, only nodded and smiled as politely as possible without outwardly showing all the malice he had in mind. Oh, he'd give hell a whole new meaning for this idiot.

_That would teach him his place_, Arthur thought. He glanced at Merlin and clearly he was not convinced by his act. The slightly indignant glare and along with a small pout that made him look so much like a petulant five year old probably gave him away. Arthur suppressed the urge to tilt his head and frown in curiosity. Only a handful of people could read through his well-practiced and smooth and schooled expressions.

"All 'ight," Coach Whitmore said, clapping Merlin on the back which caused him to slightly stumble forward from the impact. "I'll leave you boys to it then? Just try not to strangle each other on the first day."

As the coach walked away from them, he gave Merlin a warning look.

Apparently, this complete stranger that had just read him like an open book is the very definition of an open book and idiot.

Arthur wasn't sure if he liked the combination or not.

* * *

After school ended, which Merlin concluded as tedious and uneventful, he walked via the back entrance after receiving an urgent text message and met with some of the men he had left in charge of the haven at the corner of the parking lot. Coach Whitmore was there and so was Edmund, one of his best healers. Merlin dropped all his cheeky humor and became Emrys upon seeing the worried face of his healer and the grim expression of Coach Whitmore.

"What's happened?" Merlin asked, direct to the point and sounding urgent.

"We did a head count today, my lord, of the recruits and other various sorcerers within our care and found some troubling news," Edmund said.

"Has some of the nomads disappeared?" Merlin asked, a frown hardening his face.

"No, Merlin, it's not the nomads." Coach Whitmore said. "Remember that new recruit, Patrick Swell, a young hedge wizard we've found a month ago?"

"Yes," Merlin said, nodding. "Why? Is he in trouble?"

"He might be," Edmund said. "My lord, he has disappeared."

* * *

Somewhere far away, a hum of power radiated the air, making it cackle and smell of ozone. A man in a suit stood at the archway of a luxurious and fancy mansion. He had his hands clasped together behind him and his face as smooth as the surface of a lake.

A lady stood in the middle of the room and her eyes glazed over the young man's sobbing face. Her pale green eyes were calm as she caressed the poor soul's cheek.

"Please," Patrick begged. "Please, I don't want to die."

He saw her raise her other hand and his eyes grew wide with fear while the lady's were filled with adoration and satisfaction.

"PLEASE!" he begged louder. "NO! N-.."

The word was never finished and as the pale golden glow faded from the lady's eyes, the air shimmered and shifted like water.

The lady's breath was cold and dead as she huffed, adoring on her new pet.

* * *

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I know, I know. o_o_

_I know what you're thinking. I've disappointed you. I mean, I noticed a lot of people had been alerting this story and I just let you down. I have been preoccupied as of late and I am so sorry. I was suppose to add a lot more to this chapter but decided that I would just have to put the other details into the other chapters._

_Anyway, the whole point of this chapter is to get Arthur and Merlin reacquainted (as seen it is the title of the chapter) and what had Merlin been up to for the last thousand and a few hundred years. So, yeah. TA-DA! A camp for training sorcerers of all ages and talents. I would think Merlin would build a stronghold for something like that but seeing as Merlin might be a busy person, what- with protecting and saving Albion from all kinds of threats be it mundane (non-magical folks or a.k.a. muggles) or magical. So, hence, the red and white camp, colors of Camelot._

_So, I know that it seems like a boring chapter but it wouldn't make sense if I just jump to the action part now would it?_

_Or maybe I'm just not good enough to make it happen. Well, I had an idea but, well, it slipped my mind and now I can't remember them._

_I hate having a poor Anyway, I'll do more research and stuff. And you'll be in for some nasty surprises. .. I hope. XD_

_Feel free to comment and stuff. Any suggestions and violent reactions are welcomed as well so just speak your mind. Don't hold back. It's bad for the FEELS. XD_

_**MERLIN IS THE PROPERTY OF THE BELOVED BBC.**_


End file.
